


Bite my tongue, bide my time

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Star Wars Oneshots [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Escape, F/M, Imperial Officers (Star Wars), Movie: Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Mustafar, Post-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Prison, Vader’s Palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21806518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: The first thing Luke saw was a glaring light burning into his retinas, a white ceiling behind the lamp.The first thing Luke smelled was burnt flesh and antiseptic, a combination that made his mouth dry.The first thing Luke tasted was saliva percolating in the back of his mouth, a burning sensation somehow finding its way into his tongue as well.The first thing Luke heard was a heart monitor beeping, echoing in his aching eardrums.The first thing Luke felt was numbness in his arm.  Or perhaps it wasn’t just numbness.It was a nothingness.  A lack of feeling.Luke used his lashes to shade his eyes from the glaring light.  Everything was so white and bright that his eyes prickled with wetness.  He felt his chest rise and fall with a shaky breath, and he looked at his arm.Through the blur, Luke made out something shiny.  Something that definitely wasn’t normal.  Something that wasn’t skin and bone.
Relationships: Chelli Lona Aphra & Darth Vader, Chelli Lona Aphra & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Star Wars Oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024978
Comments: 16
Kudos: 205





	Bite my tongue, bide my time

**Author's Note:**

> This diverges from ESB canon, but still allows for ROTJ to happen. 
> 
> The title was taken from the song “You Should See Me in a Crown” by Billie Eilish.

The first thing Luke saw was a glaring light burning into his retinas, a white ceiling behind the lamp.

The first thing Luke smelled was burnt flesh and antiseptic, a combination that made his mouth dry.

The first thing Luke tasted was saliva percolating in the back of his mouth, a burning sensation somehow finding its way into his tongue as well.

The first thing Luke heard was a heart monitor beeping, echoing in his aching eardrums.

The first thing Luke felt was numbness in his arm. Or perhaps it wasn’t just numbness.

It was a nothingness. A lack of feeling.

Luke used his lashes to shade his eyes from the glaring light. Everything was so white and bright that his eyes prickled with wetness. He felt his chest rise and fall with a shaky breath, and he looked at his arm.

Through the blur, Luke made out something shiny. Something that definitely wasn’t normal. Something that wasn’t skin and bone.

He narrowed his focus, and the image became all too clear to him.

His eyes widened, and he struggled to lift his arm, in utter disbelief that this metal prosthetic was his, now.

The memory came rushing in all at once, and Luke felt his breath seizing. Every atom of oxygen was gone from the room in a flash, and he felt his heartbeat slowing.

He remembered Darth Vader — his father, his kriffing father, what the kriff — yanking him back from the narrow platform on Bespin. Luke remembered how tight his gloved hand gripped Luke’s forearm. Luke remembered how the monstrous man locked him towards his chest, his arm keeping Luke trapped. Luke remembered feeling very dizzy and faint and sick from blood loss. 

He remembered observing his bloody stump of an arm before collapsing into the Sith Lord’s chest plate.

That Sith Lord was his father. His father!

Luke felt the dizziness coming onto him again, the edges of his vision creeping into darkness. The weak and tired part of him wanted to welcome it, but he knew he couldn’t pass out now.

He gritted his teeth and blinked rapidly, until his vision was restored completely. He remembered how to breathe, and focused intently on every inhale and exhale. He forced his eyes open as water trailed down his temples, letting the bright white lamp keep him conscious.

When Luke was centered enough, he observed his metal arm again. He lifted his arm a little, twisting his wrist to see the detailing of the prosthetic. A piece of him was intrigued, and he used his flesh fingers to trail down the metalwork. It was intricately crafted by someone who clearly knew what they were doing, and it looked exactly like an X-ray of his flesh arm. In place of veins and muscles and bones, though, metal fused in all sorts of cylindrical twists lead to a soft palm. His wrist could flex, and the ligaments of his fingers bent easily. He observed a small bolt on the side of his wrist, and his heart dropped.

Albeit small, an Imperial decal was painted on the bolt.

As Luke was about to panic, the door to his left slid open. A woman clad in Imperial grays entered, and Luke shrunk in on himself. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep, but the heart monitor didn’t lie.

Luke heard pacing footsteps, and heard the exact second they halted. He didn’t make any movements, imagining he was trapped entirely in desert sand, a sinkhole that would suffocate him to death.

“You can open your eyes, dude,” the woman said with a snort. “I’m not the enemy here.”

Out of pure curiosity, Luke looked over at her. She was younger than he thought at first glance. Her hair was black and wavy, largely unkempt. Her skin was an olive hue, and she looked more suited to be a crook than an Imperial officer. Her brown eyes were demure and friendly, but not unkind.

The woman tapped something on her wrist comm, and Luke saw the camera in the medbay tilt away from them. He glanced over at her with wide eyes. Did she do that?

“Chill out, man,” she said in a quieter tone. “Keep your heartbeat steady as I tell you what’s up.”

Luke took a calming breath and nodded, sitting up as much as he was able.

She said, “they call me Doctor Aphra. I was sent by the Princess to make contact.”

“Leia?” Luke asked incredulously.

“What other princess is there?”

Luke swallowed saliva to combat the dryness in his mouth. “Wait...if Leia made contact...how long have I been here?”

“You’ve been blissfully unconscious for five days,” Doctor Aphra said. “Oh, how I envy you.”

Luke swallowed thickly again. He had to keep calm and level out his heartbeat. “How do you know Leia?”

“Let’s just say I’m a neutral party in the war.”

“So whoever pays most, you work for them. Is that it?”

Aphra’s brow quirked upwards. “You’re a smart one, huh? Good.” She glanced worriedly at the camera. “You’re very valuable to both the Imps and the Rebels. Mind telling me why your escape plan is the already the hardest job I’ve ever done?”

Darth Vader is his father, and Leia...well, he didn’t know how to describe his relationship with Leia. It definitely wasn’t romantic, and it wasn’t a platonic friendship, either. 

But this woman didn’t need to know all of that.

“Maybe I’ll tell you,” Luke said, “when you’ve actually helped me escape...wherever we are.”

“Ha ha, smart guy.” Aphra scoffed. “The plan is going to take a while. I need to get some pieces to fall into place. Until then, I need you to hang tight.”

“So the plan is to wait?” Luke refused to let hope or disappointment reach his tone.

“You gotta trust, man. Gotta trust.”

Luke folded his arms over his stomach to the best of his ability. “Alright, Doctor Aphra. If Leia hired you, you can’t be too untrustworthy. Now can you tell me where I am?”

“The beast’s belly. Vader’s palace on Mustafar.” Aphra smiled, an edge to her glistening teeth. “You’re one lucky guy.”

Mustafar...a planet made of lava. And his father had a palace here. Of course he did.

Luke pushed his thoughts away and huffed at Aphra. “Thanks,” he said dryly.

“I’ll check in on ya whenever I can, though I don’t know what the big guy has in store for you. Probably nothing too bad.” Aphra offered him a smile. “You probably just pissed him off, and it’ll be fine.”

Did Luke really look that innocent? Was he really that deceiving?

He wondered who Aphra thought he was, but he found that he couldn’t even muster a guess.

“I should tell you,” Aphra said, glancing at the camera again, “that you got away lucky. Only missing an arm? No other wounds beside the bruise on your face? That’s lucky.”

“Easy for you to say,” Luke commented bitterly.

Aphra barked out a laugh, tapping on her wrist comm. “Our time has expired. Goodbye for now.”

The door slid open and she left curtly. The camera went back into position, and Luke laid back down.

Time passed slowly. Luke found himself counting bodies through the walls. He closed his eyes, as Yoda taught him, and used the Force to focus on people. Specifically body heat signatures.

No small amount of Imperials went past his shut door, but not a single one besides Aphra entered it. They breezed by as if he were nothing of consequence, and his room was one merely filled with supply crates.

As the ship reached its night cycle, though, an Imperial droid made of shining silver chrome entered. The monotone dialogue was more soothing to Luke than any human voice. He was glad to listen to something emotionless, with no particular bias for or against him. The robot was simply made to tell him the specifics about his new prosthetic, and had him flex it to ensure it functioned well. Once that was done, the droid brought him an easily digestible meal. The robot busied itself around the medbay as Luke finished eating, then took away his empty tray.

After another inordinate amount of time in the silence, a darkness infesting the Force crept on him.

It was like a sickness, a plague that choked the life out of him. It was infinite blackness purging the white, an entity that ate anything that wasn’t itself. 

The telltale breathing through Vader’s mask indicated his arrival as the door slid open. He was a hulking mass of armor and darkness as he stepped into the medbay.

Luke couldn’t help but tense as he forced himself partially upright. Luke had just begun to learn how to understand Force signatures, and he was overly sensitive to their power as a result. He knew he was a light, but his father? Darkness didn’t quite cover it. Vader’s darkness was a living thing, a being as old as time and as angry as this planet.

He heard a staggering breath through Vader’s mask, and it tipped down to regard Luke. He saw himself through the reflection in the plasteel, studying the healing bruise that covered his eye and most of his cheek. He was shocked to see that he didn’t look completely terrified, only apprehensive.

“Luke,” Vader said, “you awaken at last.”

‘A keen observation,’ Luke wanted to say bitingly. But he didn’t know what the consequences of his actions would be if he said that.

Even though this was his father, that didn’t make him any less of a murderer, or any less dangerous to Luke.

Luke glanced at his metal arm, using it to prop himself up a little more. Vader noticed the movement and said, “you will grow used to it in time, as I did.”

Luke didn’t want to grow used to it! He wanted this Imperial decal off of his prosthetic, and he wanted to get out of here!

“Careful, child,” Vader echoed, “your thoughts betray you.”

Luke imagined throwing his thoughts into a box and locking them up.

“So you do have control,” Vader observed, approaching the bed in a shifting shadow. “Who taught you such lessons?”

Luke pretended to turn the volume up on a static radio, his mind filled with the ear-bleeding sound.

Darth Vader tilted his mask a little to one side. “Ah,” he said, “how interesting, child. How very interesting.” His boots were loud against the tile, sucking the air out of the room, as if the two were trapped in a bubble. Vader halted near his bedside, forcing Luke to tip his head up. “You cannot play tricks on me forever. You will crack eventually.”

Luke clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening. He chose not to speak, because anything he could muster would be considered childish.

“Luke Skywalker,” Darth Vader said, giving Luke chills at how frigid his name sounded, “the pilot who destroyed the Death Star. My men would like the opportunity to kill you themselves, but it is me who stops them. Think about that, child.” A gloved finger pointed at him, and his voice was a dull whisper. “Your safety is not a fixed point.”

Now who sounded like the child? Luke almost huffed out a laugh.

The threat was empty, and Luke knew it. There was a reason his mother loved this man. Luke just had to find it.

“Are you amused, child?” Vader saw the glint in Luke’s eyes. “Perhaps you are more of a fool than I thought.”

He must have gotten that trait from somewhere…

Luke suddenly saw the shine of a needle, and he blinked over at it. 

Darth Vader had a needle in his hand. For some reason, Luke wasn’t alarmed. It was just a factual statement: Darth Vader had a needle in his hand.

That needle went into his IV drip, clear liquid expelling into the bag. Luke felt lighter than a feather, and he glanced dazedly at his father.

“Good night, son. Tomorrow, you’ll find a change of surroundings refreshing,” Vader said, his voice garbled.

Luke’s vision blurred, and he faded away, barely registering his head hitting the pillow.

————

Consciousness eked out like sludge from his ears, and his eyes responded by struggling to open.

Luke’s grasp on reality took a moment to gain a foothold. The pillow he was on was soft, and the bed he was on was larger than a medbay cot. He was still wearing white scrubs, but noticed the Imperial insignia on his left breast pocket. His metal arm laid against white silk sheets, contrasting sharply with the black carpet and black walls and brown nightstand. 

There were no adornments in the room, one door being the entrance and the other being a fresher. The only furniture was a bed and a nightstand, and Luke realized this must be a cage for a prisoner.

A comfortable and gilded cage, but still a cage.

The sound of footsteps outside his door had Luke sitting up against the pillow, shaking the sleep out of his demeanor. A familiar piercing tendril laced with poison went directly into Luke’s heart, but he did not fear. He knew it could only be one person.

Darth Vader entered the prison cell, the door double locking behind him. His breathing was shallow underneath his mask, as if he were trying to remain quieter on purpose. The suit made that impossible, though.

Vader was surprised to see him fully awake, and he tipped his mask down as he approached. “It is...early.”

Luke tilted his head to the side. “Is it?”

“So he does speak,” Vader echoed. “I knew you could not hold your tongue forever.”

Since Luke had more maneuverability due to not being strapped to a cot, he sat crisscrossed atop the covers. His metal and flesh hand propped him up, palms flat on the sheets. He ensured that he straightened his posture as he tipped his head up. Vader examined Luke’s movements with a hesitance that betrayed genuine curiosity.

“You were a capable duelist on Bespin,” Darth Vader said, meant to get a rise out of Luke, make him remember his failure. “You are incredibly strong in the Force. My son, it makes me imagine...how much better you would be if you were by my side.”

Luke felt the sickness from Vader’s Force signature seep into his pores, and it took all of his strength not to shudder from crawling skin.

He could not turn. He would not. He had people who depended on him.

“You did not answer me on Bespin,” Vader said. “You can join me, and we can rule the galaxy together.”

Luke steeled himself. “I do not want to rule anything, or anyone.”

“Everyone,” Vader said, “wants power.”

“Not me,” Luke said, sounding like a weak little boy. “I just want…”

“What?” Darth Vader leaned forward. “What do you want, child? I can give it to you.”

“Not this,” Luke said simply.

Vader’s gloved hand formed into a fist, but nothing happened. The Force did not bend to his will, did not deprive Luke’s throat of oxygen.

Empty threats, indeed.

Luke merely batted his lashes once, his eyes sliding back up to his father’s mask. “Do you know what you’ve done? The pain you’ve caused all across the galaxy?”

Darth Vader’s fist splayed back out, and his hand dropped to his side. He listened.

“Despite what you have done,” Luke said, “you are my father, and I cannot condemn you. I have hope.”

“Hope.” Vader said it like a dirty word. “If hope amounted to anything, it would have saved your mother.”

Luke’s eyes widened, and Vader staggered, as if the words caught up to him.

With the swish of his cape, Darth Vader left the room.

————

Using one finger to hold his entire body weight, Luke closed his eyes and breathed slowly. He imagined he was on Dagobah, the smell of swamp water and filth filling his nostrils.

He wouldn’t think the feeling would be a comfort, but given the circumstances, he found it easier to think about Yoda than Vader.

Upside down, Luke felt blood trickling to his head, and he exhaled through his mouth once.

When he was steady and balanced, Luke delved into the Force. It was all around him, but there were more shadows than light. He was a robber tiptoeing past traps, snatching whatever bright jewels he could find.

He honed in on those jewels and directed them towards an empty food tray. The metal tray, adorned with a cup and a soup bowl, laid on the carpet in the middle of the cell. The three items began to quake, and Luke imagined he was holding out a hand and sweeping up the tray himself.

Luke slowly opened his eyes, and the Force abided by his wish. He refused to think too hard or get too excited as he watched the tray float in midair. He needed to remain calm, and he exhaled a long breath through his nose.

He switched from one finger to three, pushing them down as the tray lowered back onto the carpet. He breathed shallowly, and pushed the fingers back up. His legs fell behind him, but he formed an arch with his body. Gracefully, his feet planted firmly on the ground, and his fingers sent him upright in the span of a smooth breath.

Much better than crashing onto the rocks on Dagobah.

He spun abruptly when he sensed a growing shadow approach. He dropped back onto the carpet and crisscrossed in front of the empty tray.

There was a deep breath through a mask, and Darth Vader’s form filled the doorway. “Come with me, child.”

Luke rose to his feet smoothly, knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere by protesting. The pockets of light in the Force caressed him in despair, and he blinked the feeling away.

Vader didn’t have the need to bind his hands, choosing instead to grip his arm tightly. To lessen his embarrassment, Luke kept his head down and matched his father’s lengthy paces.  
Stormtroopers and high-ranking Imperials sent him burning looks, but Luke hid his gaze with his lashes. 

He had no idea where he was going, but he followed Vader blindly, his head spinning from how quickly they moved.

After a few moments, Vader dragged him near the outside of the palace, one of the side doors above the planet’s ground level. Luke felt nothing but blazing fire and smelled nothing but brimstone.

Vader dragged him to the edge of a balcony, Luke observing a blur of black and brown and orange and red and yellow. “Do you know why I built my palace on Mustafar?”

Luke very much wanted to shoot out a quip, but knew it would get him thrown over the balcony.

Darth Vader answered himself, “because this is where my Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, tried to kill me.”

Ben Kenobi wouldn’t! He would never!

“He did,” Vader said simply, hearing Luke’s echoing thoughts. “He nearly succeeded, but the Emperor saved me.”

There had to be more to it than that. There had to be. Luke would accept nothing else.

“Your Master, who was once my own,” Vader said in a hiss, “is responsible for this suit.”

The truth rang like a bell, and Luke nearly stumbled back into Vader’s armor.

“Yes,” Vader said, “now you see. Now you know it to be true.”

Luke was visibly disturbed at the ebbing and flowing lava trudging across rock. This must have made for quite a lethal battlefield.

But still...this was exactly the visceral reaction that his father wanted. Luke was playing into his hands. 

He refused to turn. Not when Ben died for him. Not when Yoda was awaiting his return. Not when Leia and Han and Chewie and Artoo and Threepio needed him.

Luke had to remember himself.

Darth Vader’s hand clamped rigidly on Luke’s shoulder, unaware of the thoughts tipping away from Vader’s favor. He simply sensed the conflict in Luke, and said, “you have nothing to gain by following Kenobi’s path. Jedi are no better than the Sith.”

For a long moment, he let the words sink into Luke’s mind. He let Luke absorb them with ample time. 

But little did he know that Luke understood there were two sides to every story.

Thinking that he brought Luke a step closer to the Dark Side, Darth Vader lead Luke back to his cell.

————

“Is it true?”

The ghost of Ben Kenobi flickered in and out like a damaged hologram. He paced near Luke’s bed, where Luke was crisscrossed, patiently awaiting answers.

The old man replied, “it is not untrue.”

Luke bowed his head, a flurry of emotions threatening to choke him. It was like being overstuffed with food, having no choice but to throw the contents back up.

“Luke,” Ben said calmly, “there is something you must understand. But first, you must breathe.”

He inhaled slowly through his nose, and exhaled deeply through his mouth. His downturned gaze affixed to Ben’s wizened face.

Ben mimed sitting on the edge of the bed, an action meant to soothe Luke. He kept his tone quiet, as if Luke were a child being read a bedtime story. “I never said that the Jedi were good and right and perfect,” Ben began. “In times of war, it is easy for conflicts to be muddled in gray areas. That is why,” he sighed, “your father turning to the Dark Side...it makes sense to me. It truly does. All Anakin Skywalker wanted was to keep your mother safe.”

“Safe from what?”

Ben was silent, weighing his options. Luke hung his head low rather than speak impulsively.

Ben replied, “your father had premonitions, as you do now. He foresaw your mother die in childbirth. He would have done anything to stop it from happening.”

“But it didn’t,” Luke said sadly. “Like mine, it only lead to a worse outcome.”

“Do not despair,” Ben said carefully, “you are far from caged.”

Luke furrowed his brows. “Why must you always speak in riddles?”

Ben smiled impishly, amusement glinting in his eyes. Instead of responding, a ripple of darkness in the Force had Ben’s ghost snuffed out as effectively as a candle.

————

Darth Vader didn’t visit Luke for three days. His only form of communication was with an Imperial droid that brought him two scant meals per day.

The only advantage of Luke’s sudden crushing isolation was that he could practice. He went over Yoda’s training techniques a dozen times, and found it easier to delve into the Force. He was soon able to make his food tray float with nary a hand motion, a command spoken clearly in his mind sufficing just as well. 

Not only that, but he could make his bed hover too. Luke wasn’t afraid to admit it: his stipulations were all in his head. Yoda was right.

By the end of his third day alone, Luke found himself more in tune with his surroundings. The darkness was there, brushing against him like a wind chill, but Luke felt the light more keenly. It spilled out of the cracks and soaked into Luke’s skin, reminding Luke of staring up at twin suns and bathing in their radiance.

On this third night cycle undisturbed, Luke was sat crisscross on the bed, floating an inch above the bedspread.

He heard the door open, and lowered himself quickly.

“Man,” Doctor Aphra said, stepping inside the comfortable cell, “you’re a tough guy to find.”

Luke had almost forgotten about her. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of rescue with Vader so close by all the time.

But Vader wasn’t on the planet. That, Luke knew for sure. 

“How big is this place?” Luke inquired.

Aphra huffed. “Bigger than I originally planned.” She tapped a wrist comm, bringing up a hologram of the palace. “A good portion of the planet’s surface accounts for Vader’s palace. About ten percent, I think. So Darthy isn’t modest about his luxurious taste.”

“Where are we right now?” Luke asked, examining the map that Aphra created closely. He had never been gladder to have a great memory.

Doctor Aphra placed a dot in the southeast corner. “You’re the only prisoner in this entire wing. It’s like they’re scared of you.” Aphra blinked over at him. “Should I be scared of you?”

Luke smiled innocently and shook his head. “You have nothing to fear from me.” He scoffed. “Be afraid of Vader if you want to pick someone.”

“He and I go back a little ways. He’s not all that bad,” Aphra said nonchalantly.

Luke masked his surprise as best as he could. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, if he was correct in believing that even Sith Lords can change.

“The fact that he’s afraid of you,” Aphra emphasized, “now, that’s interesting.” She sweetened her tone. “Wanna tell me why that is?”

Vader...afraid of Luke? Really? How did Aphra come up with that wrong assumption?

Luke replied, “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just a commodity.”

“Sure.” Doctor Aphra dropped the subject, lowering onto the bed, giving Luke enough space. She enlarged the map so it hovered over the bed. “The hanger bay, unfortunately, is in the northwest.” Aphra placed a marker at the location, and Luke frowned at how far he would have to walk to escape. “I managed to contact the Princess, and she thinks she can mask a Rebel transport as Imperial to get docking rights.”

“Do you know when Vader will be back?”

Doctor Aphra smiled. “You ask all the right questions. I like you. His Royal Darthness,” Luke stifled a laugh, “is not due to return to Lava Land for another three days.”

Luke refused to get too hopeful. Plans could always change. “How many Imperials are here?”

“Hundreds,” Aphra replied, “but their shifts are easily predictable.”

“So I can slip past a majority of them if it’s timed right?” Luke huffed in disbelief. “Sounds too easy.”

“Oh, it won’t be. Nothing ever is.”

Luke glanced at the distance he would have to cover, at the maze of hallways and bridges and doors he would have to get past. “When are we doing this?”

“Tomorrow,” Aphra chimed, looking far too happy to possibly die in this escape plan.

In truth, Luke couldn’t blame her. “Tomorrow it is.”

————

Luke studied the map until his retinas hurt, and the hologram burned into the back of his eyelids. He knew that he had an entire block to himself, trapped in the middle of a cube of hallways. There were cameras on every corner, and once the cube was broken out of, security was by every blast door. Troopers were posted in a pattern that seemed random, but Luke soon found what Aphra was talking about.

Luke had to move as if being buffeted in a windstorm. This way and that and over here and way over there. It was almost inhuman, the way he had to move.

But Luke had an edge that Aphra didn’t know about. The Force would help with his silent and swift movements.

So long as Luke remained in the sunlit cracks, he would be safe.

The night cycle began as scheduled, and Luke slipped the holo in a side pocket. He had been forced to wear white scrubs for days, and he was glad their path would allow him to retrieve his clothes, as torn and dirty as they may be. Luke also knew that his lightsaber would be with his clothes, since he could sense the crystal calling out to him.

It was once his father’s crystal, and the thought made Luke’s heart go still.

The door slid open, and he snapped at attention. Doctor Aphra was there, wearing smuggler clothes that suited her much more than stuffy Imperial grays. A pilot’s hat with goggles on them covered her mousy black hair, and he saw several holsters weaponized with blasters.

Her grin and eyes came alive. “Are we ready to die, Skywalker?”

Luke couldn’t help but smile too. “Sure am.”

Aphra cackled. “Hell yeah, man. That’s the spirit!”

Luke rose to his feet and left the threshold of the cell. He didn’t miss it one bit.

The cube of hallways that surrounded Luke’s cell were no problem at all. It was easy enough to swerve past the limited security cameras.

When they got further northwest, though, stormtroopers in pairs clogged up every few feet of space. Luke and Aphra flattened against a corner wall, and waited an agonizing fifteen seconds for a total shift change.

Once they retreated into their assigned doors, Luke and Aphra sprinted like soundless birds. They flattened against the opposite hallway and breathed, the stormtroopers switching shifts without sensing a single air molecule out of place.

The stormtroopers were like clockwork, one hallway shifting after another, for several hallways after that.

When they were getting close to the hanger, troopers were in abundance, security cameras almost unable to be bypassed.

Almost, save for the route that Aphra planned. The movements were so fast that it may require Force use on Luke’s part. He only hoped that he could swipe away the cameras slightly enough for it to be seen as a technical error.

Thankfully, as a breather, the room that held supplies was unguarded. Doctor Aphra somehow hacked into the keypad within seconds, and they slipped inside without a trace.

Luke found his beige pants and shirt in an unsealed crate marked with his name. Aphra looked away and said, “two minutes.”

Luke tugged his pants over his baggy scrubs, belting it together smoothly. It seemed that in the few days he was imprisoned, he lost some weight. He stuck the beige shirt sleeves on his shoulders, leaving it unbuttoned over his white tunic. He clipped his blaster on the utility belt for show, then hid the lightsaber hilt under his shirt. He kept a section of his shirt loose behind his back in case he needed it.

He really hoped he didn’t need it.

Aphra said, “time’s up.”

Luke cleared his throat. “Time for the difficult part, right?”

Doctor Aphra turned around, eyes widening a tad at his damaged clothing. She didn’t comment on it, instead focusing on the blaster. “Is that one of the newer marks?”

Luke nodded. “It was a gift.”

Aphra didn’t ask from who, and said, “yes, time for the worst part.”

She keyed the door back open, and Luke followed her around a corner. Six doors, six cameras. No one there. The two sprinted before they could second guess themselves.

And crashed into two stormtroopers at the end of the hallway.

Before they could so much as utter an exclamation, Luke stepped back and held three fingers in the air, swiping them across both masks. The Force was beneath his fingertips, and Luke spoke hypnotically, “we were never here. Keep walking.”

Both stormtroopers stood ramrod straight, their masks on the movement of his hand. They registered his words, and dazedly breezed past Luke and Aphra.

“Nothing was ever here,” the left stormtrooper said.

“Keep walking,” the right stormtrooper said.

Luke dropped his hand down and breathed, flattening against the next wall.

Aphra, against the opposite wall, hissed incredulously, “did you just mind trick them?! Am I helping a Jedi escape prison?!”

Luke smiled sweetly, pressing a finger on his lips. Aphra rolled her eyes and lead them down the next hallway. The amount of security cameras had increased, and Luke used the Force to nudge them away. Aphra noticed with wide eyes, but knew better than to say anything.

The next hallways required stealth and no small amount of mind tricks. Luke grew inventive in his illusions, unable to help having a little fun by having frantic stormtroopers imagine banthas trudging through the palace.

The farther they went, the more delighted Doctor Aphra became. Shock and uncertainty was soon replaced by a childlike joy at being nearly untouchable.

They reached the hanger, and everything went to hell.

A stray glance from a senior officer resulted in alarms being sounded. Luke and Aphra shared an ‘uh oh’ look, then started to run. Doctor Aphra rushed them towards the Rebel shuttle, blasters resounding in the cavernous space.

Luke didn’t think it would come to this, but he spun around, igniting his father’s blue lightsaber. Aphra kept running, the ramp to the shuttle opening a little ways behind him. Luke heard a roar that belonged to Chewbacca, but he had to beat back the gathering Imperials.

He heard blaster shots being fired by Aphra and Chewbacca, and Luke let the Force guide his movements. He moved as breezily as the wind, and as smoothly as water. His prosthetic arm twirled his lightsaber, blocking any shot fired his way. His prosthetic was no different from his flesh hand, and he flipped the lightsaber hilt between three fingers. The swirl sent a barrage of bolts back at stormtroopers, Luke hearing them fall. 

He saw a group of stormtroopers trying to rush him, and he shot out his flesh arm. As effectively as a sonic boom, the stormtroopers were blown back several feet by the Force.

As the Imperials recovered from the shock, Luke jogged up the ramp, the lightsaber cast along his back sending bolts to their shooters.

Chewbacca yowled, rushing into the shuttle alongside Luke. Doctor Aphra sent a thermal detonator in the Imperials’ direction and disappeared into the shuttle too.

Chewbacca had taken the pilot’s seat and brought up the ramp by the time Luke and Aphra were inside. He growled something at Luke, and Luke sighed into the copilot’s chair.

“I missed you too, Chewie,” Luke breathed.

There was another growl as Chewie flew them away from the palace. Luke narrowed his eyes as endless magma and volcanoes shrank from view.

Doctor Aphra lingered behind Chewbacca, taking a breath of relief. “What was that ya said? I didn’t catch that.”

Luke sighed and closed his eyes, wishing he could sink into the chair and sleep. 

Chewie repeated his words again, and Aphra said, “shit. Did you hear him, Luke?”

“Hm?” Luke asked dazedly, looking over at the Wookiee. He noticed how haggard and tired Chewbacca looked, and frowned.

“His smuggler buddy was captured by Jabba the Hutt,” Aphra said.

Luke nearly fell out of his seat. “Han was captured?!”

Chewbacca growled sadly, Luke patting his shoulder. “So Leia hasn’t been good, huh?”

Chewie answered that, actually, it was quite the contrary. Leia was more focused than ever at bringing them both back safely.

Luke hummed in consideration, and allowed the Wookiee to fly them away from Mustafar.

————

Luke didn’t breathe completely until Leia hugged him.

He felt like a balloon finally able to pop, collapse into a heap of nothing and have zero expectations for him.

After a long hug, Leia suddenly pulled away and smacked the side of his head. “I told you it was a trap! Idiot!”

Luke made a soft ‘ow’ noise and rubbed at his hair. “I’m sorry!”

“You better be,” Leia hissed, shooting a glance at Aphra. “Your credits are over there.” She motioned towards a crate of cash, but Aphra stayed.

Aphra smiled over at Luke. “It’s been good hanging out with ya. I kinda wish we could see each other again.”

Leia furrowed her brows, and Luke smiled back at Aphra. “Likewise,” he said.

Doctor Aphra took her leave to examine the crate, and Luke turned back to Leia. “So Han got himself into trouble, huh?”

Leia smiled bitterly. “What else is new?”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
